Leave, Adam
by hulklinging
Summary: He looks at Ronan up on that stage, and it's like high school never ended, like they're sixteen and he's still in love. But they're not in high school anymore, and Adam has a job and a boyfriend and sure their relationship is rocky but Ronan left without looking back to see if Adam was following. He can't just show up and expect everything to be the same as he left it.
1. Chapter 1

His phone buzzes with a call, and it shows how well he's doing, because it spooks him. He's pulling out of the garage parking lot, headed home after a late-night shift, and he doesn't recognize the number. Really, he does not want to waste the time with what is probably a wrong number, but after the fight him and Tad had last night, he's not exactly in a rush to get home either. He stops the car and fumbles for his phone, pretending the stiffness in his fingers is just from the cold, from work.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" He doesn't recognize the voice, but it has that cadence that makes him think of the rich boys he went to school with. Must be a mistake.

"Sorry to bother you. Is this still Adam Parrish's number?"

Oh. "It is," he says, hyperaware of his own accent, which comes straight from the dirt of Henrietta. Just like him. "Who's asking?"

"Ah, excellent! My name is Gansey, and it appears we have a mutual friend."

Adam tenses in spite of himself. If a friend of Tad's is calling him, it can't be for anything good.

There are voices in the background of Gansey's call, soft and indistinct. Someone must ask Gansey a question, because his voice sounds muffled, momentarily.

"Yes, it's still his number. Would you like to talk to him?"

The answer must be a negative, and there's a chuckle that Adam can hear even through whatever's muffling the line.

"Okay," says Adam, voice dry. "I'm going to hang up now."

"No, don't do that!" The stranger is instantly sheepish. "Please?"

Adam can feel a headache starting. "Look, I don't know how you got my number, but I just got off work and I'm exhausted. So whatever kind of prank this is, or joke, can we please skip to the punchline?"

"I apologize. I hadn't meant for this to come off like some prank. My friend isn't so good with phones, is all, but since we are briefly on his home turf, he wanted to give you a call, see if you were still around."

Whoever's phone this is must not know him very well, if he honestly thought he might be anywhere else.

"Okay. Whose phone is it?"

"Ronan Lynch."

There's a buzzing in his ear, and maybe his good ear is going on him, because there's no way Ronan Lynch is calling him. They haven't talking in almost four years. Not since graduation, and the party afterwards.

"Adam? You still there? I'm doing this wrong, Lynch, he's your friend."

There's shuffling on the other end, and then a voice that is all too familiar leaks over the line.

"Parrish? Hey."

This free fall of his carefully built world should scare him, but instead it just feels like returning to normal. This was that feeling he battled all throughout high school, like his nerve endings were alive, like every movement had the potential to be dangerous. Back then, he'd almost drowned in it. Now, it is much more scary.

"Hey yourself, Lynch," he retorts, and tries to hide the fact that he's gasping for air.

"You're still in this shit town?"

"Guess so." Fake a laugh, avoid looking at the clock because he's almost late enough to be missed, but he doesn't want to hang up the phone. "You back?"

"Only for the weekend." He sounds exactly the same, his rough voice like sand paper against Adam's very bones. "We have a show in town."

"A show?" Adam tries to imagine Ronan Lunch performing in any kind of show. It's a struggle.

"I'm in a band."

"Oh." Would it be rude to ask what band? Is this something Adam should already have known?

"Yeah." Awkward pause, almost long enough that Adam worries Ronan's already hung up, that he messed up somewhere. But then "Hey, look. We're at that place on seventh, Saturday. We go on at eight."

"Cool." Not a huge place, but nothing really is, here. A good stage, a bar with decent food too. Popular. Adam's been there all of once.

"You should come."

"What?"

Ronan sighs. "Jesus, Parrish. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Didn't help him though, did it, still stuck here, still got nothing in his pockets, still living less than a ten minute drive from the doublewide he grew up in.

"It was nice of you to call," Adam's voice sounds cold, but he's really just tired. "I've gotta go, though."

"Fine. There'll be a ticket for you under your name, if you come."

And Ronan hangs up before Adam had a chance to react. To politely decline, because he shouldn't, he has the night off but he should probably spend it with Tad.

Tad, who is gonna be calling him any second. Stomach clenching (he's just hungry, that's all, he's not afraid to go home, he used to be but he left that behind and that's not his life anymore), he tosses his phone down, puts the truck in gear, and drives.


	2. Chapter 2

"What kept you, babe?"

Adam flinches. Tad's lounging on their couch, looking deceptively relaxed. He's got a beer in hand, another empty on the coffee table.

"Last job took longer than I expected," he says, going through the motions of coming home. He's got his own place, a boyfriend who waits up for him. He's living the dream, right? He reminds himself of that, and his smile is only a little forced.

He drops his shoulder bag on the table, and Tad makes a grab for him, but he sidesteps it.

"I'm gonna go clean up. I'll be right back."

He showers the day away, fast and hot, and some of the tension leaks from him. Tad doesn't seem to still be mad. Maybe they could have a nice night. Hell, Adam might even let himself have a beer.

But when he gets back out, he sees Tad thumbing through his phone.

"What are you doing?'

All the relaxation has vanished from Tad's body. He's tense, fingers gripping Adam's phone like a chokehold.

"Who's calling you, Adam?"

Adam forces his body to stay casual, forces his feet to stay grounded. _I've done nothing wrong._

"Just an old friend."

"What'd he want?"

Adam doesn't miss the assumed pronoun. He shrugs, making himself move towards Tad, sit down beside him, lean against his warmth. _I've done nothing wrong._

"He's back in town, that's all. Wanted to invite me to a show him and his band are putting on."

Tad laughs. It's louder than it should be, in their little apartment. "What did you say?"

Adam doesn't look at him. "Maybe. I wanted to talk to you about it."

There's a nod. Adam can feel the movement, can feel every point where their bodies are touching. His own skin feels like a minefield.

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to go to see your friend's shitty band. What's the guy's name?"

"Ronan Lynch."

Tad's laugh is like a gunshot, and Adam flinches away before he can help himself, even though he knows better. Tad hasn't moved, but his smile has twisted into something cruel, and his body has gone tense. Adam has the beginnings of a headache and he just wants to go to his room, close the door, sleep for a day or thirty. He can't actually recall the last time he's slept well.

He's letting his thoughts wander with an angry Tad next to him. Bad idea. _I've done nothing wrong._

"So your ex-boyfriend calls you up outta nowhere, asking you to come see his shitty band, and you just say yes?"

"I was going to ask you, we were going to go together, I said that." He has this at the ready, gets through it without stumbling, doesn't realize he's prioritized the wrong part of Tad's accusation until Tad growls in frustration and tosses Adam's phone aside so he can grab onto Adam's wrist instead. Adam winces, more for his phone than anything else. They can't really afford to fix it if it breaks, and Tad's grip isn't really tight yet.

"I should have known the bitch he talked about was you."

The insult has Adam on the defence. His free hand is on Tad's chest. Comfort, calm down. Tad has a temper, but that's okay. Adam's hands are his own kind of magic, a calming spell forged through experience. "You didn't even know me in high school, Tad."

Adam had gone to the public school, could ace the tests but couldn't afford the bill for anything better. That was before Adam had moved out and Tad had gotten kicked out (different stories, but the same reason, because coming out in this town is a dangerous thing). That shared understanding had been what had gotten them talking, and they had a lot in common, even without the families that didn't want them. They'd moved in together quick, a necessity made easy by the whirlwind romance that they'd both been swept up in.

Adam misses that more than he cares to admit.

"Yeah, but I knew him, didn't I?"

Ronan and Tad are so different, belong to such different parts of his life that he'd never really considered the fact that they probably knew each other. Even now he has a hard time picturing it.

"I honestly hadn't thought-"

Tad's not listening. He's looming over Adam, who's somehow curled up on himself in such a way that he's now lying lengthwise on the couch, Tad pinning him down with his presence even though he's still only touching his wrist. Adam bites back a hysterical laugh because the last time they were like this it was all sighs and skin and heat. It seems like a sick joke now. That memory must be from months ago. Sex with Tad is never so simple anymore.

"I remember him, always thought he was too good for the rest of us, always pretending he was somehow less of a trust fund brat because he fucked up more than anyone else. And always going on about this boy-"

Adam feels his lungs freeze, his heart forget to beat. He's been working on trust, on not questioning everything he's told, but he hears that and all he can think is liar, Tad must be lying, because Ronan never talked about 'them', not to him, so what could he possible have to say to others, to random classmates at his rich boy school?

"-about how private school taught us shit and how the smartest guy he knew could run circles around us all barefoot, or some bull. Always thought he meant his weird twinky friend, the one who disappeared, but he didn't shut up even after that guy fucked off to die in the woods or whatever. We had a bet on whether this guy even existed or if Lynch was just as crazy as his old lady..." Tad laughs again. He has a nice laugh, usually, but when he's like this his laugh is barb wire around Adam's neck, choking him. He's staring down at Adam like Adam is something he's caught, an animal in his trap that he's not sure what to do with. It's a possessive look, one Adam used to blush at and enjoy, because he had never had someone stare at him openly before, okay with the whole world seeing he belonged to someone. Now it's something else. Everything is all twisted now, twisted wire and scratches.

(Ronan would only look at Adam when he thought the other boy wasn't looking. Drove him up the wall. Ronan didn't let anyone see him vulnerable, not even the boy he kissed behind closed doors)

"Guess I win that bet." Tad seems to have run out of words, and Adam uses the pause to pull Tad down on top of him, hoping they can end the conversation there. He gets a smile for his effort, and Tad caresses Adam's jaw as he leans in for a kiss. Adam responds enthusiastically, because he doesn't always know what words will work against his boyfriend's temper, but he knows him, has spent the last few years learning all the ins and outs of him. Tad trails kisses down Adam's neck as Adam's stiff fingers fumble with Tad's belt.

Tad tugs too hard at his hair, leaves him gasping for breath like they're overeager teenagers, and there's new bruises on his hips, but he kisses him tenderly and whispers about how beautiful Adam is, how much he loves him. Adam falls asleep easier than he has in weeks, comforted by an argument averted and confident in the fact that his boyfriend still loves him, they're still making this work. The two of them, together against the town, against the world, just like they've been since the beginning.

Right before he doses off, Tad's story floats once more through his mind. Ronan's mother had been depressed, not crazy. Ronan's friend hadn't just gone missing, he'd been kidnapped, maybe.

 _Doesn't matter_ , he tells himself. It was a long time ago. Practically another life. _Doesn't matter at all._


End file.
